


For the Promise of Peace

by Impetus



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Alpha!Shiro, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Beta!Lance, Blood, Bottom!Lance, F/M, Fantasy AU, Knotting, Lactation, M/M, Smut, shance, top!Shiro
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-17
Updated: 2018-03-02
Packaged: 2019-03-20 08:51:09
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 16,213
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13714230
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Impetus/pseuds/Impetus
Summary: The Galra empire has thrown the world into chaos with its warmongering and seizure of lands. Shiro, a prince, and his best friend have been captured by the Empire. Rescue always seemed impossible; ending the war, even more so.





	1. Rescue

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Arctg](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Arctg/gifts).



> This was written for @arctg !  
> Originally it was meant to be 7.5k but it ended up...as this...and took WAY too long for me to complete. She wanted me to share so I will be posting the remaining chapters over the next couple of weeks!
> 
> There is some violence and mentions of blood but nothing terribly graphic in my opinion. However, if you think that should be warned for, please let me know!
> 
> Thank you for clicking on this fic. I hope you enjoy!

When the first sounds of battle start, Shiro and Keith pay them no mind. Neither guard moves from either cell door, so neither prisoner budges from where they sit on their cots. Somehow, there were pirates foolish enough to try and take on an armed Galra ship, so Shiro and Keith quickly learned that fights meant nothing in terms of rescue.

It isn’t until a bloodied Galra soldier comes careening down the brig steps that both they and their guards react. The door leading to the deck slams shut with a level of force not afforded to wind or the weight of the wood. Both Galra approach the body slowly, ears flicking and weapons at the ready as they move toward the dim and foreboding stairwell. Keith and Shiro move closer, floors creaking beneath them and chains dragging against the splintered planks. The tang of iron and stench of blood itches their noses. Their shackles clink against the metal as they plaster themselves to their cell bars to see better. Shiro sucks in air as he spots what killed the soldier lying at the guards’ feet.

It’s beautiful, the sharp blossom of ice that protrudes from the Galran’s chest. Despite the battle roars they hear and the thuds of bodies hitting the floor above them, the light footsteps descending the stairs clap like thunder as they all wait with bated breath.

A magic user. An ice wielder.

Each step echoes heavier as a figure comes into sight, frost crawling with his approach. Shiro takes stock of the tall lithe man, limbs and neck full of conceited grace as he reaches the bottom with an exaggerated sigh. Brown hair, dark skin, white teeth, and a set of eyes that stop Shiro in his tracks. The ocean and cold glaciers he’d only seen in books flash through his mind as he takes in the crisp blue hidden beneath a thick layer of lashes. Under Shiro’s heavy gaze, the man smiles a smile of sunny days, warm like his skin. He wears regalia, too much for a pirate, and he smells like a storm that washes over Shiro’s nerves and send chills down his spine. Oceans, ice, and summer rain all in one.

“The blue paladin,” the first guard whispers, voice reverent and afraid. His arms tremble as he fires a few shots. Horror twists his expression as all of them are stopped in their tracks by a wall of ice that crumbles as quickly as it formed.

A cocky grin spreads wide as the mage holds up his bayard, a frosty crossbow, and crows, “the one and only!” He bows low and dramatic, a blue and white cape flourishing with a flick of his hand as he chances a wink at the soldiers. Shiro’s heart pounds in his chest and as if by magic, the man turns toward him with another charming wink and an appreciative whistle. “But you, Prince Charming, can call me La--”

“Die, you Voltron scum!” the second guard shouts, shooting before the man is ready, bullets splinter wood and crash against haphazard ice walls. The blue paladin lets out a yelp as he tries to regain his footing. Shiro and Keith watch, awe disappearing as he leaps out of the cramped stairwell and calls up a shield, just barely avoiding a new spray of bullets as the other Galran finds his bearings.

“I’m trying to woo royalty here! Who raised you?” The paladin shouts, brows furrowed and mouth twisted as he levels his crossbow. Both guards are ready for him now, unintimidated by the lanky mercenary as they face him together. Shiro and Keith back away from the cell doors, the fight now taking place a little too close for comfort in their shackled states.

Suddenly, the door at the top of the stairs opens and a voice bellows from above. “Lance, do you have them yet?” The voice is young and familiar, Shiro’s eyebrows creasing as he tries to remember where he may have heard it.

The two guards cock their guns, both flinching as they half-twist to listen to the voice that calls from above. In that moment, Lance barks out, “I’m working on it! Hold on a second!” His words reignite the battle, the Galra now firing on him once more. Shiro catches a glimpse of the tongue that slips out of the paladin’s mouth as it swipes over thin lips. Then, with a crisp snap, the crossbow loosens a bolt of ice straight into one soldier’s forehead. He falls, his finger still on the trigger as it lets loose stray bullets. Sheets of ice sweep up over the front of their cells, cutting off their view as a series of shots embed themselves into the cold barrier.

Shiro’s breath puffs in the air as he walks forward to touch a hand to the frozen blockade; a foggy scene of one shadow shooting at the other until he hears the muffled click of an empty chamber. In what Shiro can only assume is desperation, the larger form lurches forward. It stops just short of the thin shadow where it stands in front of Shiro’s cell. The Galran gasps and shudders, sharp shapes cutting a fine silhouette as ice punches through his armor and blooms from his back. He falls, red cutting across the shimmering blue. Shiro trembles, eyes darting over to Keith as they both wonder the same thing.

What if they aren’t here to rescue us?

Bound and trapped, they are ripe for the taking. Voltron is a team of legendary mercenaries, and they are a prince and his right hand. A veritable jackpot for anyone lucky enough to claim them.

“Hey, Shi--”

The ice shatters, small pieces melting and diluting the blood that had begun to soak into the ship’s floors. Both captives watch the man with caution as he approaches the bars, the brown of his boots wet with blood. “Alright, let’s get you--uh that is a lot of blood, um, one second,” Lance sputters and bends over his knees, heaving. Immediately and inexplicably, Shiro reaches out, his hand rubbing the back of Lance’s neck, massaging it as he tries to calm the man in front of him. Lance relaxes after a moment, the fighting above them having ceased as he catches his breath. When he looks up, Shiro’s heart thuds traitorously again.

We don’t know what he’s here for. Shiro reminds himself, as Lance’s expression brightens. The paladin rises back to his full height, taking in the sight of both Shiro and Keith, unsightly in the same tunics and trousers they wore when taken by the Galra. To Shiro’s right, Keith’s fists clench, his ears alert and forward as he stares Lance down. The blue paladin raises a brow as both prisoners prepare themselves. Shiro’s shackles bang together cacophonously as he squares his shoulders and adjusts his stance. If he had to fight, he would.

No matter how nice he smells or how cute he is.

A sly smirk splits Lance’s face as he leans against Shiro’s cell, long fingers running along one bar as his looks Shiro in the eye. “Hm, two big bad alphas all bound and ready for me, I could get used to this.” His pinning gaze moves to Keith, and Shiro lets out a breath he didn’t realize he was holding. Lance’s scent disappears too quickly as he moves on to Keith, his casual posture a sharp contrast to Keith’s tense arms and raised shoulders. Lance gestures pointedly to the shackles around Keith’s wrists and ankles before chuckling, “almost too easy, but, I’ll take it.”

“Easy? You almost got taken down by two grunts,” Keith says, a little confused. Lance’s mouth drops open before he turns to Shiro, his exaggerated features full of indignance as if to ask did you hear what I just heard? Keith doesn’t seem to realize that he had caused any offense, but Lance wheels around on him all the same.

“Excuse me, show some gratitude! I just saved you!” He huffs, pointing a finger right in Keith’s face before redirecting it to the latch on the cell door. “And I’m letting you out,” he says, encasing the lock in a block of ice and destroying it with a harsh kick of steel toed boots. Keith rolls his eyes as Lance gives him a self-satisfied smirk. “You’re welcome, mullet,” he sniffs, before turning to free Shiro. The captive prince fails to choke down a laugh at the insult, his cheeks threatening to blush when Lance looks even more pleased at his reaction.

Keith’s nose wrinkles and his ears flatten in distaste. “Whatever. If I had magic I’d have taken care of everything two steps faster than you.” Shiro lets out an exasperated sigh as Lance whips back around, crossbow and mouth at the ready when the door at the top of the stair swings open.

“Are you finished down there, my boy?” A curious voice booms down into the lower levels, tinged with an accent Shiro has not heard in nearly a decade.

“Almost done!” Lance shouts, “I’ve still got the handsome prince here all wrapped up for me.” Eyelids lower as the paladin’s voice drops. “You come here often?”

Shiro’s ears blaze as Keith lets out a disgusted noise. “Just get us out of these stupid shackles,” Keith hisses. Lance ignores him, lips curling as he gives Shiro’s lock the same treatment as Keith’s.  
  
“I think I might leave you like that instead,” Lance responds, waving his hand over his shoulder as he gets too close to Shiro too quickly. “And as much as I’m tempted to leave you tied up, I prefer to be the one wearing the handcuffs,” Lance winks. “Just for future reference.” He lays a hand on the metal chains as before, the buffed metal frosting over as he shatters it. Cool fingers trail up Shiro’s arm as the paladin steps away, and is that Shiro’s heart in his throat? Maybe. Probably.

Keith groans, “Oh for the love o--”

“Lance, hurry up down there! We don’t have all day,” A new voice, as vaguely familiar as all the rest, cuts through the air. “I’m not going to wait any longer,” the unseen speaker says. “Excuse me, Coran.” The man’s name is Coran.

“Not at all, Princess. I will go to the captain’s quarters and see what I can find there!” Coran, says eagerly. Shiro looks at the stairs, brain processing a mile a minute as he realizes that the accents both Coran and the Princess have are native to Altea. A country whose royal family disappeared in the destruction levied upon it by the Galra imperial emperor Zarkon.

Practical leather boots appear first, quickly followed by long legs loosely hugged by a pair of off-white trousers. When she finally reaches the bottom, the princess shakes out her long white hair and runs her fingers through it to break through a few tangles. It is then that Shiro catches sight of a pair of rings on her right hand. Delicate steps around pools of blood and soon to be stinking corpses lead her to the front of Shiro’s cell.

She watches his reaction, aware as she takes in the sight of Lance at his side. “Lance,” she says, tone laced with authority and impatience. The man pouts and holds his hands up in surrender before stepping even further away from Shiro. Shiro swallows the protest in his throat, choosing to rub away the soreness in his wrists instead. When the princess approaches, her scent, cool and powerful, clears the sour smell of blood. “It’s been a long time, Shirogane Takashi of Hoshizora, Prince of the North.”

“Allura Lumina, Princess of the East,” Shiro replies with a bow. Princess of Altea burns unspoken on his tongue. He schools the surprise he feels into a feigned diplomatic calm, a skill he was taught in even his earliest years. “Thank you very much for your help.” I thought you were dead. Everyone thinks you are dead. “If you do not find it impertinent for me to ask, how did you find us?” Shiro asks instead.

In his cell, Keith shifts. A roll of shoulders to stand at full height and re-adjust the cuffs still restraining him. Allura turns, gaze resting on Keith before they slowly find their way back to Shiro. Shiro hides a smug smile. Some things never change.

Allura ignores the humor dancing in Shiro’s eyes, expression neutral despite the red that burns the tips of her ears. “Lance, go help Keith, would you please? I need to speak with Prince Takashi.” Lance nods, surprisingly obedient as he strides out of Shiro’s cell and into Keith’s, a goading smile already crossing his face. Allura sighs and moves closer, “Prince Takashi--”

“Just Shiro, Allura. No need for formalities just because it’s been a while,” Shiro says quickly. We mourned you and your kingdom. “We are friends.” We missed you. Allura nods, but Shiro notices Allura’s attention move to Keith once more. Both Keith and Lance are busy bickering as Keith holds out his still whole shackles, shaking the chains as Lance examines his nails. She turns back to him, no effort made to hide what she had been looking at. Shiro’s gaze rakes over Lance’s form before returning to meet Allura’s. He does not hide either.

Both of them say nothing.

“We are here because we have been searching for you,” Allura says, not aiming to beat around the bush. This time she refuses to look away from him, obviously watching for his reaction when she speaks again. “We have taken control of this ship and will sail to Zarkon. We would like you to join us.”

Shiro’s eyes narrow, “Voltron, a young but notorious band of mercenaries, sailing to Emperor Zarkon with a Prince in tow. For what reason would you sail there?”

“To kill the Emperor of course.”


	2. Unfazed

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Shiro and Keith meet the crew.

The blue sky and fresh salt air is welcome in Shiro’s lungs as he climbs the stairs. It isn’t until they finally ascend to the deck, carefully avoiding the bodies on the floor, that Shiro realizes why Voltron is so notorious. It is a ragged band of six including the princess and her steward. A team of just six that came out victorious against a ship full of trained Galra soldiers. Other than Allura and Coran, Shiro recognizes two of the remaining four.

“You’re alive,” Shiro whispers, staring at the flesh and bone Holt children who stand equipped with bloodied weapons and their signature self-assured attitudes. They both grin sheepishly, teeth and spectacles glinting in the sunlight, hands giving a tentative wave as Shiro catches his breath. Relief wells up in Shiro and overflows like a dam breaking after an endless storm. He moves forward and meets the Holts halfway, all of them laughing as they wrap each other up in warm arms and hold each other close. Keith follows soon after, approaching them all as they take in each other’s scents.

“Keith!” The younger one shouts, untangling herself before embracing him. Keith smiles, nose pressing against her hair as he hugs her close and inhales deeply. After a moment and a bit of wriggling, she pulls back and gives him a hard punch to the shoulder. “I can’t believe we leave for a couple years and you both get yourselves kidnapped!” She says, cheeks ruddy from the ocean wind and exertion.

“You’re one to talk, Pidge,” Keith chuckles, still soaking in the reality that she and her brother are alive. “When your lands were taken and there was nothing but a destroyed manor, we buried you and Matt in empty caskets.” The jovial mood sobers for a moment, made damp by the seriousness of Keith’s voice and the heaviness of his furrowed brows.

Matt pulls away and claps a hand against Shiro’s shoulder with a bark of laughter. “You thought the mighty Holts would go down so easily? For shame,” he says. Humor rolls off of him in waves but his nails are bitten to the quick. Despite that, he looks content. “Our lands may be gone, but our family is still safe; we were all rescued by this band here.” He gestures to Allura and the others before moving on to give Keith a hug of his own.

“They were so kind as to offer us their services,” Allura says quietly, coming up next to Keith and the Holts. “We are in dire need of members. Pidge here was selected by a bayard, and Matt has proven himself indispensable as both a fighter and a friend.” She smiles warmly at them both before turning to look at Shiro and then Keith. “We were hoping you would be willing to join us as well.” Shiro rests his hands on his hips, eyes drifting from his newfound friends to the less familiar faces on board. The corners of thin lips curl in a catlike smirk.

Shiro, ears hot, quickly shifts his attention to the last of the crew. The man is fidgeting. Wide hands tugging on the ends of his faded yellow tunic; his posture is unsure despite his size. Wearing his most reassuring smile, Shiro walks toward him and extends a hand, “My name is Shiro, it’s very nice to you meet you…”

“Hunk! I’m the yellow paladin,” The man says, voice on the verge of breaking as he takes Shiro’s hand. “One of my mother’s families is from Hoshizora and she always told us about you.” Hunk’s warm brown eyes sparkle fondly. “She said the Shirogane family was very fair and that you would be a great leader when you grow up. Just wait until I tell her that I met you in person!” If Shiro was blushing before, he is blushing even more heavily now. Shiro opens his mouth to thank Hunk when an arm makes its way around his waist.

“Now, Hunk! You can’t go stealing away all of the beautiful boys!” Lance says, fingers branding Shiro’s skin through the worn fabric of his shirt. The blue paladin leans in to whisper conspiratorially, “He always does this. Hunk is really too handsome and kind-hearted for his own good,” Lance sighs dramatically. Shiro can practically feel his lips spell the words. Then, Lance inhales. Shiro cannot help but turn to meet his gaze as he feels cool air rush against his skin. “I can’t have him wooing you too.” Lance leans in even closer, a cheesy expression plastered across his face. “After all, you smell good enough to eat.”

“Ugh, Lance, please find some better material!” Pidge calls, booing wholeheartedly as she and Matt both wave off Lance’s flirtation. Hunk has his head in his hands, clearly embarrassed as Lance shrugs off the negative feedback.

“Hey! I’m the most desired beta on the high seas!” Lance calls indignantly. His body presses even closer to Shiro’s side. Shiro shivers as Lance’s scent spikes, the paladin leaking pheromones as he flexes with the arm not holding Shiro hostage. “You can’t tell me that he wouldn’t want a piece of this!” Lance winks at him, and Shiro flushes, tongue caught in his throat.

Lance is clearly an awful and easy flirt, but something in Shiro purrs and relishes the attention. Shiro feels the wiry muscle still wrapped around him with startling clarity. Lance’s scent fills his lungs and rushes through his system. All of the stiffness built up from his time in captivity melts away when Lance nuzzles exaggeratedly against his shoulder. Blood pounds through Shiro’s veins as his body reacts a little too eagerly to the unintentional scenting.

“Shiro had suitors lining up and down the halls, he’s not gonna fall for some two-bit playboy who plays himself more than he plays anyone else. Now come on, loverboy, give Shiro a bit of space,” Pidge chuckles. She refuses to wait for Lance’s reaction before she turns away. “We have to start getting rid of the bodies.”

Lance lets out a heavy sigh, bemoaning his fate as he pulls away from Shiro. “Aw, c’mon, Pidge. Can’t Hunk do that? He’s the strongest!”

“Uh, Lance, the last time I tried to get rid of fresh bodies I blew chunks everywhere. Don’t you remember?” Hunk’s face colors at the memory and he levels a firm finger at Lance’s face. “You need to freeze them for me to even be able to touch them. There’s no land around here for me to encase them in stone.”

“Fine!” Lance says, slouching as he trudges after his fellow paladins. He straightens up for a brief moment to shoot Shiro a smarmy grin. “I’ll be back for you later,” he says, shooting finger guns at the prince. Keith groans as Lance walks by and Lance instantly hones in on Keith’s displeasure. “Got something to say, Mullet?” Keith says nothing, crossing his arms as Lance leans in close. Shiro’s hackles raise a notch. “Yeah, that’s what I thought!” Lance wheels around and stomps off, Shiro immediately relaxing as Lance steps away from his best friend.

Matt walks over, laughing before letting out a low whistle. “Damn, I always knew you were wound tight, but I never pegged you for a possessive guy.”

“Excuse me?” Shiro asks. Matt smiles knowingly and shrugs.

“Actually noticing someone flirting with you for once? You’ve changed,” the bespectacled beta laughs. “For the better, might I add. You’re buff as hell!” Matt says. “The last time I saw you, you were still the size of a normal Hoshizoran, but now you might as well be half-galra like Keith.” Matt turns to look at the aforementioned half-breed, but Keith is distracted by Allura, the princess speaking to him very seriously in low tones. Matt takes stock of the small alpha before turning back to Shiro. “Well, you’re bigger than him anyway, so I think you could definitely take him on if staking claim on Lance ever becomes an issue. Though I doubt it will, considering Princess Allura is here and she pinned him that one time when she visited when we were thirteen.” Matt sighs, “Ah, young love.”

“Matt, you do realize that you’re the same age as Allura, right?” Shiro asks, brow raised.

“And still she rejected me! Me! A prime beta her age just ready to be deflowered!” Matt says, hand pressed against his chest. “She wouldn’t be my alpha even if I begged. Believe me, I tried. In fact, Lance did too.” A growl started low in Shiro’s chest, to his surprise and Matt’s amusement. “Don’t worry, she turned him down. Said something about exclusively being into alphas. Broke his heart,” Matt said, sounding completely unmoved. “Anyway, I can’t believe that Lance’s pick up lines are actually working for once, and on you of all people.”

Shiro blush deepens even further, a feat he did not think was possible. He gives Matt a small nudge.  
  
“Do you think he’s actually interested?” Shiro asks. His eyes follow the shapes of fish as they swim near the surface of the water.

Matt opens his mouth when a shout draws their attention, Shiro’s shoulders tensing when he spots Lance with his arm around Keith’s shoulders. Hunk and Pidge look both used to and impatient with Lance’s behavior as they simply wait for the beta to finish.

“C’mon, Allura. Keith should help too! It’s only fair!” He says, voice tinny and difficult to hear over the sounds of waves crashing against the ship.

Shiro walks over, Matt tagging along behind him at a less urgent pace. “What’s going on here?”

“Nothing,” Keith grouses, “I was just talking to Allura and this guy--”

“My name is Lance!” Lance interjects. “And that’s Princess Allura to you.”

Keith levels him with a displeased look and tries to resist as Lance pulls him in closer. His head ducks, the testy man’s nose drawing close to Lance’s neck when Shiro finds himself moving. Before he knows it, Shiro has pried Lance and Keith apart, a hand on Keith’s shoulder and one on Lance’s wrist.

“Hey, guys, play nice,” Shiro says, a little exasperated.

Lance’s half-lidded eyes slide unabashedly across Shiro’s features. One hand moves to rest on a cocked hip as he pointedly shakes the wrist with Shiro’s grip wrapped around it. “I’ll play nice with you anytime,” the beta grins. Blood rushes to Shiro’s face and he sputters as Lance winks and sticks out his tongue.

Keith huffs, pulling from Shiro’s grasp as the flustered prince immediately lets go of the paladin. “I’ve called her Allura since I was five years old and I’m not going to change that now just because of you.” Lance’s brows disappear into his hairline and his cheeks puff full of hot air.

“Five years old?”

“Yes, Lance, I’ve known him for a very long time. Keith is heir to the Kogane family,” Allura says, voice impossible to miss despite the softness with which she spoke. Lance winces. All eyes dart to Keith as the sail snaps and billows in the wind. Hunk and Pidge approach from where they had been waiting for Lance as he opens his mouth.

“The Kogane family is famous,” Lance says, breathlessly. “Your parents were the first diplomatic interracial relationship between a Galra and a Hoshizoran.”

“They were in love,” Keith snaps. “It wasn’t just diplomatic.” The half-Galra runs an anxious hand along his arm, sharp nails coming out as he wilts under all of the attention. Allura steps up behind him, scenting him respectfully in reassurance.

Hunk steps forward, releasing a comforting omega scent as he gives Keith an apologetic smile. “I’m sorry for your loss. Your parents were amazing fighters.”

Keith nods, expression stony when Pidge comes up and gives him a tight hug. He sinks into the touch and takes the hand Allura offers, pressing his nose to her wrist--a gesture of familiarity and intimacy that Shiro knows Keith does not indulge in often.

Lance stands tense at Shiro’s side, obviously looking for a way to express his apologies. Before he even realizes what he is doing, Shiro lays a hand on the small of Lance’s back and rubs it, trying to get the beta to relax. Lance shivers before seemingly finding what he was looking for.

“Hey, Keith!” He calls, easily capturing the attention of everyone onboard the ship. Lance gives the quiet alpha a jaunty smile, “I can’t believe you’re childhood friends with Allura. Does that mean you can give me all the dirt?”

Keith stares at him, unsure before shooting a horrified Allura a smirk. “Yeah, I’ve got tons on Shiro too.” Hunk leans in interestedly, and Keith raises a challenging brow at Shiro’s panicked expression. “I’ve got plenty to share, probably even more than Matt and Pidge put together.” Matt lets out an indignant sound and shakes his fist at the grinning half-galran alpha, who does nothing but chuckle in return.

Lance grins at that before turning his impish gaze onto the alpha next to him. “Oh really?” The beta leans in close, his height putting his lips just at Shiro’s chin, the smell of rain almost overwhelming. “I’d love to hear all about it.”

“Lance.” Allura clears her throat. The beta turns to look at her. It strikes Shiro that while Lance’s wide smile doesn’t change, his eyes glint, brows furrowed as he listens. Allura sighs before continuing. “As I mentioned to you before, Shiro. We sail to Zarkon’s fortress.”

“You intend to sail to Castle Daibazaal? To kill Zarkon, I’m presuming,” Keith says. Hearing their objective said aloud in such frankness creates a sense of unease. To kill Zarkon. No matter how many times he hears it, Shiro feels it crash over him like a wave that leaves cold tendrils of disbelief trickling down his back and burrowing into his bones. Keith feels no such reservations. “Well then, let’s get going. I’m ready to start training.”

“Wait, wait. You just said “kill Zarkon” out loud and that didn’t faze you at all? When I first heard it, I couldn’t sleep for three days. Three days!” Hunk cries incredulously before turning to pin Shiro with a wide-eyed stare. “And you, let me guess. The noble prince isn’t scared either.”

I am terrified. Shiro thinks.

“We have to do what we have to do.” He says instead.


	3. Waiting for Something

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Keith isn’t good at this.

They remain where they are for a day until Coran finally cracks the Galra coded map with the help of both Holts and Hunk. “A month’s time!” Coran crows. “Young master Holt and I will prepare this here voyager for towing, with everyone else’s help of course! We will transport all necessary items to our ship for safe keeping and in just a month we’ll be at the Galra stronghold. Be sure to regain your strength; time waits for no one!”

Upon moving to the Altean vessel, Shiro and Keith realize why the Alteans were able to find them. Similar to the Galran ship there is door that leads directly from the deck to its cell holdings, however the rest of the Altean model is superior in every way. Despite the small crew, the ship runs smoothly: automatically is the word Allura tosses out. Unlike its wooden counterpart, this ship is made of metal, smooth and white, the sleek design riddled with strange magic and technology that leaves both Hoshizorans reeling.The Holt family’s signature flair is everywhere, mixing with Altean and Balmeran handiwork.

“Half of Hunk’s family is from Balmera,” Allura tells them. “That is where he was born and raised.”

“What is it like in the South?” Shiro asks. “From what I understand, there is no royal family.”

Hunk’s cheeks dimple as he responds, eyes full of excitement as he tells them all about Balmera. “It’s warm almost all year round. You’re right, we don’t really have a central government at all. Most of our people live in villages, each village having its own set of rules. Lance here is from one village over! I’m from a mining village and he’s from a fishing one. The only reason I’m even barely able to keep my guts from coming up is because he’d drag me out to the beach to go canoeing or surfing any chance he could. And let me tell you, that was way more often than I would have liked.”

Shiro laughs at Hunk’s words. The mental image of Lance standing on a small boat, laughing raucously with friends as they haul in net after net of fish flashes into his head. The smell of a storm at sea makes that much more sense as Shiro mulls over the thought of Lance staring hurricanes in the face, riding waves taller than he is, wild and free. It suits him.

“I’ll be sure to take you out someday. Show you my sick moves,” Lance says, appearing at Shiro’s elbow. “You can ride my canoe anytime.”

“Lance!” Hunk half-shrieks, scandalized. “He’s a prince, you can’t just say things like that! I’m so sorry, Prince Takashi.”

Shiro laughs, full-bellied and rich as Lance defends himself against Hunk’s mother-henning. “It’s no problem,” Shiro says. He lays a reassuring hand on the concerned omega’s shoulder before turning to address the smirking beta. “I’d love to go for a canoe ride, Lance.”

The shade of red that paints Lance’s face is a beautiful one, Shiro pockets the small victory with a wink of his own and wanders off to find Matt. It takes a scant two seconds for Lance to hurry after him, eyes glittering as he tells Shiro about all the places they should go once they return home.

Shiro wonders if Lance’s eyes will ever glow for him like they do at the thought of home.

***

It is after a week of Lance’s ceaseless flirting that Shiro and Keith join the others in training; and Shiro cannot be grateful enough to have another excuse for his unnaturally fast heartbeat.

The three paladins, Pidge, Hunk, and Lance, all work together seamlessly before turning on each other to continue the exercise.

“Not without lots of time and humility,” Matt makes sure to point out from the sidelines. “I was the only one with any sense of teamwork. You should’ve seen the disappointment on Allura’s face when none of the bayards lit up for me.”

Shiro chuckles at that before reaching out to pull Lance back and out of range when Pidge leaps into the air, the staff she wields whistling through the air.

Shiro grins at Lance, who returns his smile with an exhilarated whoop before flipping backward, letting loose an array of blunt powdered arrows when he lands. They leave marks of blue on Pidge’s stomach, the small paladin still recovering as she skids forward on the smooth metal underfoot.

“Ugh, I hate having to wash this out,” she says, looking put out as she heads over to where Matt, Keith, and Hunk stand on the edges of the deck. “Okay, I cannot believe that you betrayed me!” Pidge hollers, leveling an accusing finger at Shiro. “Double teaming at the halfway is dirty. This was supposed to be last person standing!”

“Don’t be such a sore loser, small fry!” Lance teases. Pidge flips him off crudely before hollering back an insult of her own. Lance laughs it off, sticking his tongue out at her. Then, blue eyes swing back to Shiro. “It’s just you and me now, Prince Charming!

The match ends quickly with Shiro straddling Lance’s hips with one end of a staff at his throat. When Shiro pins Lance, the feeling of rightness that fills him is almost frightening.

Something is there, and Shiro is determined to figure out what it is. It is as he helped Lance to his feet that Shiro acknowledges the thumping in his chest. I want to learn more about him.

Lance’s blatant flirtations are bad for Shiro’s heart, but Shiro is patient. The moments are quiet—all too easy to miss. But Shiro is vigilant and his eyes are sharp.

Shiro watches, catching the fleeting moments of Pidge or Hunk showing Lance something new they’d created. Lance’s proud smile is given freely, but is loaded with an immense joy as he asks more and stokes his friends’ excitement.

Lance glows under the moonlight, surreptitiously draping blankets over an exhausted Allura or bringing Coran a meal to eat while the steward mulls over a book. Lance moves like water, feeling and searching for cracks he can fill.Lance runs around, eager to speak with anyone and everyone about their futures and the promise of going home as a hero. It lightens spirits and gives a sense of thrill to their tiring and often unglamorous voyage.

He is flexible. In his spare time he is often climbing up and down the mast, twisting here and there on the ropes secured by knots that Hunk checks ten times each. For Lance’s safety, Shiro is sure. Watching Lance weave and dip in the air both terrifies and impresses him. When Shiro asks why he does it despite the obvious danger, Lance grins wide and sparkling.

It feels like I’m flying back to Balmera.

Watching Lance dance in the air makes Shiro’s heart twinge from then on. But all in all, it is enjoyable, observing. Shiro likes learning these things about Lance. Quite a bit in fact. But it isn’t until a couple weeks have passed that Shiro understands what it is about Lance that makes him decidedly human despite all of his flair.

At first it makes Shiro’s lips curl in distaste. In fact, it’s something that has always irritated Shiro more than attracted him. Lance has a way of sticking his foot into his mouth at the worst times, most noticeably during arguments or when they’ve all had too much of the same food rations.

It isn’t until Shiro catches Lance climbing to the Altean crow’s nest after dinner that he realizes what Lance’s intent is. Lance lightens the mood with terrible jokes whenever he can. All of the whines and groans give way for something else to fill the gaps. He breathes them in. Draws the negativity into himself and hides it beneath self satisfied smirks and finger guns. Now, he smells like salt, but not of the sea. Shiro slips away as the moon hides behind the clouds.

The next morning Lance is the same as always. As they all sit down to eat, still annoyed with the gooey ration yet again served to them Lance begins to poke and prod.

“Hey, I bet I can finish my food faster than any of you.” Most of those seated at the table ignore him, but Keith’s hackles puff as Lance leans in closer. “C’mon, mullet man. Too busy nursing your food?”

“Shut up, Lance,” Keith mutters. But he chews faster, barely swallowing by the time he’s put another spoonful of gruel into his mouth.

Lance’s eyes glint in the sunlight peeking through the hull’s bay window. He examines his nails and opens his mouth again, “I bet I can finish eating and get to the training deck faster than you can.” By this time, Keith begins shoveling his breakfast into his mouth and Lance crows in delight. “C’mon, slowpokes! You don’t want to be left behind do you?” He yells, digging in.

It is always like this. In fact it almost makes Shiro jealous as he watches Lance smirk haughtily at Keith every chance he gets, relishing in the satisfaction of making Keith’s short temper snap. Much to Keith’s consternation, the paladin is always ready with a quip or petty competition, and they frequently brawl despite Lance’s impressive losing streak.

The next time Shiro hears Lance escape to the ship’s highest point he waits at the bottom of the mast. When he finally gains the courage, Shiro climbs the rungs and peeks over the lip of the crow’s nest.

Lance is asleep.

Coran surprises him on the deck with a blanket and walks past him to ascend the mast. When the red-haired beta descends, blanket-less, he pats Shiro’s shoulder and returns to his quarters.

Lance is the same the next morning.

***

  
Even though he was born and raised a prince, the flirtation that comes with a position in the royal family never interested him like this. The infamously beautiful and affectionate omegas at court never even caused his heart to flutter despite their sweet scents laced with soft perfume. Physical matches to establish rank among Hoshizoran fighters, overwhelmingly alpha in number, never did anything for Shiro either. He was not interested in power or domination in status.

Betas, overall, were generally harmless. Their usually gentle and inoffensive scents made them ideal for diplomacy. Shiro was surrounded by them every day at the castle as they moved, almost like ghosts, constantly maintaining balance.

Lance is somehow all of these things at once. He is enticing, caring, eager to challenge anyone, and always watching, flowing like water to fill any tiny gaps the team may leave behind. When Shiro confesses his thoughts on Lance to Keith, the half-galra stares at him balefully.

“Lance is not a hybrid of omega, beta, and alpha.” Keith rolls his eyes, exasperated. “He’s a beta.”

“He’s not just a beta!” Shiro says stubbornly, surprising both himself and the man in front of him. Keith arches a brow at him, the fine features of his face marred by the look of sheer disbelief he wears.

“Lance is a beta,” Keith says, voice even. “He is also not enticing at all.” Shiro opens his mouth, but Keith beats him to it. “Listen, Shiro. I’ve been your best friend for pretty much as long as I’ve been alive and I’ve never seen you react to anyone like this before.” Keith sighs, hands running through his hair before coming down to rub the back of his neck. “I’m not good at this.” He says, gesturing vaguely to the space between them. “But I think...I think that this might be something different. I don’t know.” Keith lets out a frustrated noise as he tries to find the right words. “You just...you both look at each other when the other person isn’t looking and I don’t know how to express how frustrating that is for some reason!” Keith throws his hands in the air, hair frazzled.

It is with the sight of Keith, Galra ears frantically twitching and fingers curled that Shiro realizes something both beautiful and terrible. “I have a crush on Lance,” he murmurs, incredulous. “I have a crush on Lance.” Laughter bursts out of Shiro’s chest, ringing in the otherwise quiet cabin. In a matter of moments, excitement turns into dread and he seizes a harassed looking Keith by the shoulders. “You can’t tell anyone.”

Keith rolls his eyes at the thought. “I’m not going to tell anyone about your crush.”

Allura and Hunk sniff out the truth within days.

Shiro supposes it is only a matter of time before something gives.


	4. Something

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Things change.

Shiro lunges forward to take on Hunk, Coran having set the bayard-less fighters against the paladins in a three on three match. It is obvious that the omega is unwilling to approach him with conviction as each blow that Shiro receives is half-hearted and full of hesitation. Shiro should have already been on the ground, Pidge and Lance doing their part to keep himself, Keith, and Matt on their toes while Hunk sets forth to finish the job. But Hunk is gentle by nature and had made a comment at the beginning of their training that both Shiro and Keith were still recovering and may not yet be ready.

“There’s no better way to get back in tip top shape than sparring!” Allura had said, sharing a pleased smile with Coran. And so, Shiro was still on his feet, dashing forward and around Hunk to tackle Lance to the ground. The blue paladin collapses under his weight and they wrestle for a moment before Shiro finally pins the sniper. Training ends quickly after that, the remaining members of each team getting worn down as the desperation to win mounts. It eventually ends in a tie and all six fighters gulp down water and a few rations. Hunk heads off with Coran to the galley while both Holts descend into the personal quarters to get cleaned off.

Shiro slumps down next to Lance, exhausted and exhilarated by the physical exertion.

“You’re good. People don’t usually get to our back line,” Lance says breathlessly. “You just couldn’t get enough of me could you?” He stinks of sweat and Shiro watches rivulets of moisture run down the beta’s neck. They are beyond tantalizing, and Shiro cannot bring himself to focus on anything but how delicious they must be. “Shiro? Shiro are you okay?”

“Yeah, yeah I’m fine,” Shiro murmurs, mind hazy as he leans in closer. He barely registers the panic in Lance’s eyes as he presses a soft kiss to where the sweat rests against Lance’s collarbone. “Mm, you taste good,” the alpha sighs, his tongue running up the length of Lance’s neck as his hands find their way around Lance’s waist.

In the meantime, Lance tries to grab someone’s attention, holding back every instinct he has to respond to the alpha’s advances. Keith notices first, immediately hurrying toward them and moving to pull Shiro away from the beta’s side. The scent of another alpha has Shiro baring his teeth with a fierce growl, tugging Lance even closer against his side.

“He’s going into a rut,” Keith grunts, backing off. “I don’t know what to do, Shiro has never actually gone into a rut before. We always have suppressants on hand in Hoshizora.”

Lance bites back a moan as Shiro returns to his neck, face bright red with embarrassment and arousal. “How long were you guys held captive?” The beta shrieks, voice pitching as Shiro gently presses the sharp edges of his teeth against the now swollen scent gland on Lance’s neck. “Oh my god what do we do? Should we get Hunk?”

Shiro lets out a low disgruntled noise and grips Lance tighter at the suggestion. The strength in his hands is sure to leave bruises behind as he attempts to lift Lance into his arms. Once he is on his feet, a breeze blows by, clearing the air. Shiro blinks, awareness crawling back into his eyes.

“Lance, I’m so sorry. I--I need to go,” Shiro gasps, setting the beta back down before rushing to the brig. Keith follows him at a respectful distance. He begins descending the stairs only when he hears the sound of the cell door closing. When he reaches the bottom, Keith sees Shiro sitting on a blue and white cot, fists clenched in the sheets. “Keith, lock me in.” The half-Galra pauses. “Please.” Shiro looks at him, eyes desperate. “I can handle it.”

Keith returns his gaze, looking away only to grab the key and lock the door. “Why don’t you ask Lance for help? You like him, don’t you? I’m sure he’d be willing to help.”

Shiro smiles, a little sad. “Everyone knows he’d flirt with anything that moves.”

“That’s bullshit,” Keith grouses. “Everytime you walk into the room Lance immediately starts showing off. It’s annoying, honestly.”

Above them the brig door opens and Pidge calls down the stairs. “Everything alright? Lance is worried. I’m coming down!” Neither Keith nor Shiro says anything when Pidge appears. Her nose wrinkles and she waves her hand in front of her face. “You reek.”

Shiro recoils from her as well, both hers and Keith scents unpleasant to him and quickly becoming more overwhelming. “Pidge, I’m fine, can you go get some food and water for me?”

Pidge looks between the two alphas for a moment before turning to head back up the stairs. “I’ll be right back. Do you need anything else?”

“Extra sheets, please,” Shiro says, skin flushed as the rut reignites in the pit of his stomach. Keith watches him worriedly as he buries his face into the pillow.

“The only time Lance isn’t flirting with you is when he’s asleep. I’m sure he likes you. I’m going to go ask him if he’ll help,” Keith says, ready to run and retrieve the beta for his desperate friend.

“No, Keith. Please, try to understand where I’m coming from,” Shiro says, low growls strangling each word as he forces them out. Everything in him screams that Keith has to go and that he has to lay claim to what’s his. He shoves the desire back into the depths of his mind. A deep breath of Keith’s dull bonfire scent clashes against his need for rain and lightning.

“Shiro, let him help you.”

“I don’t want him to come to me because I ask him to,” Shiro says finally. “Lance has to come to me because he wants to. Keith, please. Go tell the others I will be okay.”

Shiro continues to smother the need to fight the alpha in his territory, but he’s losing the battle quickly, fangs and claws elongating as the rut forces its way through his veins. He snarls, the sound so loud and frustrated that it rattles the bars. Keith looks away in resignation and moves to return to the deck.

“Fine, do what you want. But I won’t stop him if he comes on his own.”

***

Shiro’s rut is agony. Every inch of his body feels simultaneously too big and too small. His muscles bulge as he grips the crisp linen of the sheets. Every bit of fabric against his skin is a sharp reminder that what it glides against isn’t the soft skin of a mate. The only thing he can pull from the white noise is a voice that begs him to find someone. Begs him to find Lance.

No, he tells the voice. It grows louder and more fierce with every wave of heat and every roll of his hips against the mattress beneath him. Find him. Claim him. Make him yours. Shiro shivers at the thought as his hand plunges past the waistband of his trousers to run the length of his cock. This is not what his body needs, and every instinct he has fights against it, but Lance is not here, so he must make do.

Then suddenly, everything goes quiet. The shrill demands fade into the gentle hum of the ship’s engine and the sound of the lock to his cell opening. Shiro groans in protest as he tries to understand the sudden clarity that cuts through the residual rattling of the alpha instincts against the cage of his still-tense body.

“Wow, you sound as terrible as you look. Though you’re still really hot and honestly, the husky alpha voice you’ve got going on is pretty hot too.”

Lance.

“Why are you here?” Shiro asks. You know why he’s here.

The beta raises a brow as he opens the door. “You smell of rut, you’re two seconds from whipping your dick out, and you scented me so heavily on the deck that I don’t think the smell will fade until I happen to run into another pre-rut alpha. Are you really asking me what I’m doing here?” Lance moves to step into the cell, the door clicking shut as Shiro stalks toward him.

Another pre-rut alpha. A growl escapes Shiro’s throat at the thought. The sharp sound catches them both off guard and the beta turns to look at him, uncertainty clings to his features as he slowly, carefully, moves toward where Shiro lays. Each step closer brings greater clarity to the alpha, the once-screaming instincts now settle beneath a layer of expectation and hope.

“I’m going to not take that growl personally,” Lance says with a shrug of his thin shoulders.

“Oh, no, I um. Sorry,” Shiro stammers. “I didn’t mean to growl I just. I’m rutting and you meeting another alpha just…” He trails off as Lance smiles and preens under the attention. The beta continues to approach his bedside. Closer.

Closer.

“I understand.” Lance shrugs. “Once you get a taste of the Lancey Lance, it’s hard to share.” The easy sway of the beta’s hips and the tilt of his head all stoke the fires in Shiro’s stomach. Despite the nerves Shiro can practically taste in the air, Lance looks at him openly and tilts his head even further to expose his throat. Every single one of Shiro’s instincts roars with satisfaction.

He’s offering himself to you.

“Are you sure about this, Lance?” Shiro fights every desire to take and waits impatiently as Lance finally stands directly in front of him. Long fingers caress Shiro’s hard jawline as the beta settles himself on Shiro’s lap. He leans in and presses a kiss to Shiro’s scent gland.

“Yes.”

  
***

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’m sorry this is so short! The next chapter is pretty huge :)


	5. Laying Claim

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Here be sex.

Each inhale feels like stepping into fresh snow. Lance’s presence is crisp and grounding as the pads of his fingertips drag across Shiro’s heated flesh. The alpha arches into his touch and heaves a deep sigh of relief.

What was once clouded air filled with too much musk and desperation is replaced by soft salt-chapped lips and the taste of Lance’s mouth. Shiro sinks into it, every bit of him alight, cooling only under Lance’s attention. The beta accepts him with upturned lips and half-lidded eyes. It is when Shiro reaches out to run hands along the lines of Lance’s body that he realizes that the beta is still dressed. His instincts protest, demanding that he strip and scent every inch of Lance’s body. The rational part of his mind, the part that calls itself Shiro and loves Lance far more than it has a right to, stops him.

A wide hand cups Lance’s chin as Shiro gently pulls away from the kiss. The beta follows his movements, trying to bridge the gap he creates.

“Lance, I have to be honest.”

Shiro struggles to find the next thing to say. The right thing to say. Lance watches him with eyes too sharp for the lust that crackles in the air. Shiro summons every bit of bravery and drinks in the sight of Lance’s dark skin littered with red and the shape of teeth.

“Helping me through this rut is more. To me, Lance, this means so much.” The once refreshing coolness of Lance’s skin feels like ice in Shiro’s hand. But still, the prince speaks. “You can turn me away. You can leave me whenever you’d like. Just know that if we go through with this...if you offer yourself to me...I cannot guarantee that I will ever want to let you go.”

Lance seems to contemplate his words, rolling them around. Shiro shudders under Lance’s gaze as the beta reaches up to take the hand that cups his chin and guides it down his neck, over his chest, and finally to where his light blue tunic tucks into brown trousers. Then, in one movement, Lance is right there. Their chests press together as he shifts their hands together, laced fingers pulling at the salt stiffened fabric.

Then, a kiss. Shiro feels the press of lips on his scent gland. Like before. Reassurance that he never wants to admit he needed.

“You know, my mama always told me I was meant to do great things,” Lance says. His breath ghosts over Shiro’s skin. “At first, I thought that she was talking about the whole Voltron thing. But maybe she was talking about the day I’d be taking some royal dick instead.”

Shiro chokes on his spit and laughs. As he reels backward to heave a deep breath, he catches the smirk that slides across Lance’s face. Tenderly, too tenderly, both men lean in, their still woven hands now resting against Lance’s hip. Another kiss and sharp teeth that carve a line through the skin of lips. Shiro tastes the blood in Lance’s mouth.

Lance’s blood tastes of iron and frost. Despite the intimacy of the act. Despite the fact that blood is only to be spilled and lapped up during bonding ceremonies, Lance indulges Shiro. The alpha is genuinely surprised that he is able to keep such conscious thought. Just ten minutes ago he had been ready to tear through the bars to just smell the man in front of him.

“Are you sure you won’t regret this?” Shiro asks, voice tremulous as he prays to every god in every heaven that Lance will not leave him.

Lance lurches upward and brings his free hand to Shiro’s throat, pressing his mouth to the opposite side. Teeth. Teeth dig through skin and burrow deep in Shiro’s flesh. Blood leaks past Lance’s still-chapped lips and sticks their skin together as Lance pulls away.

Shiro breathes heavily and draws Lance into his arms, kissing him deeply. Betas did not leave marks. They did not rage, take, and claim. No, betas bridged gaps and filled holes. They noticed the sensitivities of alphas and omegas in rut and heat. They did not leave marks.

But Lance left a mark and continues to carve more into Shiro’s skin.

“I’m jealous,” Lance admits when he finally steps back to take a breath. “It’s only been a couple of weeks, admittedly, but believe me.” His voice dips and his lashes flutter. “I never thought I’d ever get the chance to love someone as amazing as you.”

Shiro’s heart pounds with each breath, the blood rushing through his ears and veins as he delves deeper into Lance’s arms. He and Lance wanted each other. Suddenly, everything clicks into place and Shiro lets out a gentle exasperated laugh.

“Keith said that watching us was frustrating. I think I understand now,” Shiro whispers as the heat rises up his neck to meet Lance’s lips. He feels it as it happens. Lance lets out a low hiss and latches onto the wound on Shiro’s neck, lapping up the blood that still leaks from the opening. Shiro’s eyelids slide closed as he relishes the feeling of Lance’s tongue smoothing over his skin when suddenly the feeling is gone.

Lance is pulling away.

Shiro’s eyes snap open, alpha roaring desperately. Why is he leaving? It doesn't matter now as he thinks of how to make Lance stay, how to make his mate stay. Lance turns away from Shiro with blood still on his lips. As he stands, Shiro immediately rises to follow him. The beta pauses in front of the locked cell door with Shiro at his back.

“Where are you going?” Shiro asks breathlessly.

Lance laughs awkwardly and gestures to the door. “Nowhere I guess, since we’re both still locked in here.”

“Please don’t leave,” Shiro whispers before he can swallow the words. Lance’s shoulders tense, the mark on his neck raw against the broken skin. He takes a deep breath but says nothing. Shiro frowns, any and all rut doused by the obvious displeasure rolling off of the beta’s body. His would-be mate isn’t happy. Now is not the time. “What’s wrong? Is there something you need?” Shiro racks his brain as Lance stares at him. A nest for them maybe. “I can make you a nest,” Shiro says with the last bit of breath in his lungs.

“I’m not an omega,” Lance sighs. “Nor am I an alpha.”

Shiro does not understand why Lance looks so frustrated. Lance stares at him with wide eyes that narrow as he takes in a sharp breath.

“I am not Keith,” Lance says. His expression gives nothing away, but still, Shiro thinks of the crow’s nest. “I will get him for you as soon as I break out of the cell.” The air grows cold just as the realization comes.

Oh.

“You’re misunderstanding me, Lance.” Shiro’s voice is stern and heavy with the authority of a matured alpha. “Please don’t jump to conclusions.”

Lance flinches at that, deflating as his shoulders relax. Then, hopefully.

“What do you mean, Shiro?” Lance looks up at him with eyes sharp and glistening like the ice he wields. Then they soften, reminiscent of the foam that bubbles on the crest of the ocean waves. Long thin fingers reach out. They tremble as they make contact with the heated skin of Shiro’s forehead before they slide down to cup his cheek. “I’m sorry for reacting poorly.” A beat passes. “Please tell me.”

“Lance, I have to make this clear.” Shiro almost purrs as Lance’s neck arches with a turn of the beta’s head. The line of his teeth is stark in the way all alphas desire their claims to be. He wants to kiss it, so he does. Lance shivers. “I have no interest in anyone other than you,” Shiro says honestly. “Every part of me wants you. Like I said, this means a lot to me.” His thick and calloused fingers warm the hand that Lance still has pressed against his face. “Even it if it isn’t the same for you, and I won’t hold that against you,” he murmurs, flicking his eyes up to catch Lance’s stricken expression. “For me, this is my first time and my first bond. Likely, it will be my last.”

The beta stiffens, mouth already open in indignation at the declaration when Shiro lines up his teeth and bites again. A whimper rises from Lance’s throat and escapes with the air that rushes from his pointed nose. “Beta bonds aren’t permanent,” Lance gasps. Shiro lets out an unsatisfied huff before loosening his jaw and releasing Lance’s neck. He licks away the blood and takes in a deep breath, commanding Lance’s attention by using his hand to guide the beta’s chin upward.

“I don’t care if beta bonds are permanent or not. My mark will be on you forever, and if you will have me, I will continually take your teeth so that mine never fades.”

“If I didn’t know better I’d say that you were asking me to be your bondmate,” Lance laughs. Shiro leans in to swallow the laugher and kiss away the beginning tears as Lance understands Shiro’s intent.

“If it’s alright with you, I’d like you to be my bondmate,” Shiro says. He smiles ruefully before continuing, “Keith said it was frustrating to see us dance around each other. So I will not dance around you now.” Shiro ignores Lance’s disbelieving expression and plows onward. “I know that betas don’t work like alphas and omegas. You won’t be bonded like I will...but I would like to be bonded to you.”

“Why me?” Lance asks through quiet sobs. “Coming into this I decided that I would let you do anything you wanted. I never thought that you actually meant this. Even when you marked me I just assumed that it was because you’re in a rut and I thought alphas just did that and I’ve never slept with anyone before.”

Shiro smirks at that. “You don’t say?” Lance lays a soft smack on Shiro’s arm and glares up at him through watery eyes. The softness stokes the embers that lay burning slow and low inside of him as he holds Lance close and tries to convince the beta that this is okay. “This is what I want,” Shiro whispers. Lance nods and giggles awkwardly.

“Gods, I totally ruined your rut,” the beta sniffs. The prince presses a soft kiss to Lance’s cheek before sweeping him up and carrying the long-limbed Balmeran to the bed that just barely creaks beneath their shared weight.

The alpha settles in behind Lance and wraps an arm around the man’s thin waist. A heavy hand on one hip and the grind of his still semi-hard cock to Lance’s ass has the smaller man catching his breath. The alpha leans into kiss the shell of the beta’s ear. “I don’t think my rut will go away until I’ve experienced making love to you.”

Lance glows bright red and wriggles in his arms until they’re facing each other nose to nose. The new-found confidence in his eyes stokes hot in Shiro’s stomach. “You smell like cedar. Sharp,” the beta muses as he buries his nose into the unmarked side of Shiro’s neck. A tongue glides over the taut skin as Lance slides a hand down Shiro’s abs before settling on the rapidly thickening cock between the alpha’s legs. “It’s nice…”

“You’re still dressed,” Shiro moans as Lance softly trails fingers around the hard length. The edge of his nails trace soft ticklish swirls and lines into Shiro’s velvety skin before the smooth pad of fingertips draw wider shapes down to the base and back up Shiro’s torso. His rut is coming back full force now; the open anticipation on Lance’s face awakening the primal desire with startling impact.  
  
“Mm, it is a bit funny that you’re naked and I’m not...but I kind of like it,” Lance says thoughtfully, finger tapping against his chin. Then he decisively pulls away. Shiro groans at the sudden lack of contact when Lance smoothly removes his pants and wriggles out of his drawers. He moves to unbutton and take off his tunic as well when Shiro stops him. The now loose fabric cuts clean and interesting shapes against Lance’s heaving chest.

“Leave this on,” Shiro murmurs as he leans in to suck a nipple into his mouth, tasting cool metal jewelry. A groan shudders through the humid air, echoing back to them from the white and blue walls of the cell holding. The beta immediately returns to his previous task and steals all of the air out of Shiro’s body as he lavs saliva across his palm before reaching between them and aligning their dicks. Then, a soft thrust of the hips, and Shiro can’t hold back any longer. He is amazed he made it this long. Alphas were not known for their patience, but Lance is here, and for him and the alpha inside him, that is enough.

The air smells like Lance and it settles over Shiro comfortably as they move together. Their erections slide together as they clumsily grind, gratuitous drops of precum dripping from Shiro’s now swollen cock as he humps against Lance’s crotch. Fingers tangle in the soft blue cloth of Lance’s shirt as Shiro moves to hover over Lance, hips still moving as he uses his legs to turn Lance with him.

It’s possessive. The cage of Shiro’s arms and legs trap the flexible limbs that don’t even try to escape as the beta submits beneath the weight of the alpha. Shiro and possessiveness never seemed to coincide. Even as a child he was always willing to share. He would share Lance if he had to; if that’s what Lance wanted. But right now, in this moment, Lance was his. Shiro dips his head and catches Lance’s lips with his own. His right hand palms his dick and knot to gather precum and slick his fingers with it. With one last comforting peck, he kisses his way down Lance’s jaw as he eases one finger into the beta’s ass. Lance arches upward, their stomachs pressed together as he takes Shiro’s attentions with grace. Sweat clings to them both when suddenly Shiro feels Lance’s hand on his chest.

Lance rises up and leans heavy on one elbow as he brings now-wet fingers to his mouth and licks them. The beta’s eyelids lower as he licks his fingers again before regarding Shiro with a curious gaze and smug grin. “I didn’t know alphas lactated.”

Neither did Shiro, but he could feel the beading of milk and then, after a moment and a shift of the beta under him, Lance’s mouth latches on before a gentle suckling relieves the sudden pressure in his chest. With his free hand, Lance massages Shiro’s pecs as if to encourage the flow of milk as he alternates between the two nipples. The alpha moans and shudders from the pleasure that lights up every nerve in his body. Lance refuses to let up, teeth grazing the sensitive flesh as he drinks heartily from Shiro’s tits. It is only when Shiro eases a second and third finger into him that Lance pulls off with a soft pop. Lance licks his lips lavisciously once he’s taken a moment to recover from a light graze against his prostate.

“You taste sweet,” Lance hums. Shiro grins and inserts a fourth finger in response to Lance’s delight. Despite his virginity, Lance is opening for Shiro perfectly. The thoroughness of Shiro’s preparation allows Lance’s muscles to relax entirely as Shiro spreads his fingers and caresses Lance’s insides.

The beta’s skin is flushed and damp with sweat as Lance grips Shiro’s dick, the shaft now slippery with the sheer amount of precum that has dripped from the tip and clung to the sides of his prick. Lance’s hand feels almost small in comparison to the still growing erection as he swells in the smooth hand. Then, impatiently, Lance begins to jerk Shiro off. Shiro’s hand slides free as he moves from Lance’s ass to his shoulder in a bid to stop the beta from making him cum prematurely. His knot throbs in desperation.

“Lance, wa--ah,” Shiro’s plea dies on his tongue as Lance guides the head of his cock to the hungry hole he’d spent so much time preparing. Then, in a series of slow grinds, Shiro sheaths himself inside Lance. His balls press against Lance’s ass, the knot at the base of his cock startlingly large in comparison to Lance’s puckered asshole. But Lance doesn’t pay that any mind as he throws his head back into the pillows and stretches his legs up and around Shiro’s waist. Shiro fights his rut, the desperation now back full force as he’s in a position to finally knot, and watches Lance roll his hips and look up at him salaciously through curled lashes. His mate is the most beautiful thing Shiro has ever seen.

“Shiro, I know I’m beautiful, but if you don’t fuck me right now I will turn this ship around a--hah, that’s not fair,” Lance mutters as Shiro pulls out and thrusts back in with earnest. Each thrust is accompanied with the feel of harsh suction as Shiro leaves even more decoration on Lance’s skin. Soft bites plant seeds for hickeys that will likely bloom in the morning. The air feels electric as they bask in the mixed scent of cedar and snow that sets sharp contrast to the sheer overwhelming heat of rut and the need to _fuck fuck fuck._

Skin slapping drowns out the sound of waves and humming machinery as they focus only on each other. Shiro’s knot swells in anticipation as Shiro smacks Lance’s ass before leaning his weight in and pressing one of Lance’s legs back against the beta’s torso. Lance does not mind at all, the stretch easy as his leg hooks over Shiro’s shoulder. Any and all attention is on Shiro’s dick as it plunges deeper and faster with each passing moment. Lance’s entire body shudders beneath the imposing force of Shiro’s thrust, the alpha testing the press of his knot with every snap of his hips.

The beta moans throatily as Shiro’s hand finds his dick and begins to milk him of everything he has. Shiro’s thick fingers fondle his balls and fist his cock as the rest of him is plundered by Shiro’s erection. It doesn’t take long for the beta to go boneless as his semen spurts between them, painting their bodies translucent white. It smears between them, mixed with the thin milk that still dribbles from Shiro’s throbbing nipples. Shiro tries to be patient but he cannot stop thrusting despite all of his efforts. He tries to pause but he can’t. The feel of Lance warm and tight around him is too difficult to resist during his rut and he moans miserably but he wants to knot. Needs to knot. His brows furrow as Lance presses soft pecks to any part of Shiro he can reach. Shiro tries everything he can to slow his pace and he bites his lip as he summons every ounce of discipline he has.

Finally, Lance makes a decision. He surges upward to kiss his alpha deeply before pulling off of Shiro’s dick. The shift displeases the alpha, but the disappointment eases into minor relief as he catches his breath. Lance purrs as he moves and Shiro cannot help but watch intently as Lance gets onto his hands and knees with his dick swaying in the open air and the white shirt sticking to the sweat on his back.

Finally, when Lance finishes turning over still caged and falling apart, Shiro drives his cock, full knot and all, into Lance’s ass. In this position Shiro’s alpha instincts roar with the desire to breed his mate. So he does. He pounds and grinds against Lance mercilessly. His hands brand hot hard bruises on Lance’s dark skin as he grips tighter and thrusts harder to claim Lance from the inside out. His knot presses against the muscles of Lance’s ass and each shift feels like ecstasy as Lance begs beneath him.

“Fill me up,” Lance moans. “Give me all of your cum. Please!” Lance grinds back against Shiro as the alpha finally lets himself go. Shiro releases in hot thick ropes inside his mate as he bites down on his claim mark for the last time. His hips do not still, snapping against Lance’s rump as he fucks and fucks and fucks his semen deeper into Lance’s body. One hand glides from Lance’s hip to feel the distension of the beta’s stomach. All of that cum is Shiro’s, and the alpha relishes in the feeling of the slick liquid trapped inside of Lance with his still-hard dick. Then, suddenly, the rush stops, Shiro’s balls empty of seed. Shiro growls in frustration and continues to rut into Lance’s body to the sound of the oversensitive beta’s soft mewls, despite the lull in his rut. He pulls off of Lance’s neck and grumbles petulantly.

No, he wants to be with Lance more. He wants more.

His mother would call him greedy if she could see him now, and Shiro has never been called greedy in his life. But right now, in this moment with his mate beneath him, Shiro would fight anything and anyone trying to take this away from him.  
  
Lance sighs exasperatedly before relaxing against the mattress.

“Shiro, we’re likely going to be locked together for a while. Let’s rest.”

As if Shiro could deny his mate anything. So he nods and moves them both onto their sides. Despite the sweaty sheets and the new feeling of being knotted with someone, for the first time since being captured and whisked away by the Voltron crew, Shiro sleeps soundly.

***  
It is with great pleasure that Lance and Shiro ride out the remainder of the alpha’s rut.


	6. Fight Me.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Emperors do not die without cause.

Although their newfound bond is beautiful and life-changing, time does not stop for two freshly minted lovers at sea. Training continues at the same breakneck speed they sail.

It is after another week of training and one too many public kisses shared that Allura offer Shiro and Keith a chance to see if the bayards will react to them.

Keith inspects the red bayard curiously as it glows in his grasp. A sword lighter than anything he’d ever wielded. It suits him and the speed he relies so heavily upon. The flames that lick the blade cast shadows and warmth on his face as he raises the bayard to the sky.

It is sheer luck that the fifth and final bayard accepts Shiro. The black paladin. It sounds much grander than it feels. But Lance is thrilled at the prospect that Shiro is now the leader. Training becomes even more heated than before. Now that both Shiro and Keith have awakened bayards and joined the paladin ranks, Allura pushes them even harder than before.

They run drills and Shiro dredges ever bit of confidence inside of him to the surface in order to cheer on and encourage his friends. Sparring takes on more seriousness an desperation than ever before, the looming threat weighing heavily upon all of them. However, in spite of their quest, Lance never fails to throw out a line or make Shiro blush at every opportunity he can.

Pack alpha, Lance teases.

My love, Shiro says in return.  
It is then that Lance blushes brighter than Shiro ever has.

***

Coran declares that they will be arriving in Galra territory in a little over a week.

It is a unique kind of horror. This is the moment they always knew was inevitable, but it was a moment that they never wanted to happen. Dread lingers upon them like the phantom strings of a cobweb that you can never shake off. So they find comfort in each other as they prepare for the day.

Shiro holds Lance as the beta tries to remind himself that he’s a soldier now. Lance holds Shiro as the alpha fights the urge to run from those who have already captured him once.

Still, despite their fear, the arms that hold them never feel like shackles.

***

They approach Daibazaal and manage to find a hidden dock documented on the map Coran deciphered.

It is with a strange lack of guards and great suspense that they traverse the steep walkways carved into the face of cold cliffs. The fortress sits atop the frozen isle. Each story told of the emperor’s hold rings the same series of alarm bells in the listener’s head.

One small island of an archipelago in a raging ocean where winter never seems to cease. Not even sirens reside in its waters. Seagulls scavenge elsewhere. Seeds unfortunate to land on its soil wither away. It is always dark, some kind of black magic maintaining a heaviness that makes it difficult to breath. Nothing lives, not willingly.

Shiro feels every word in the chill that quakes his bones and the sharp slap of icy water slamming against the cliff side.

“Where is everyone?” Hunk asks. Vocalizing the anxiety that plagues them all.

“My mother always told me about the beauty of Daibazaal,” Keith says lowly. “When things were good, when the king was kind, it was said to be like paradise.”

Shiro does not say what Keith’s mother said last when she left her son. Says nothing about how he overheard the woman he called “auntie” tell Keith to be brave and understand that they must go.

“But it has rotted, and no one lives here but the emperor and the witch. Not even staff. The magic rejects everyone. Not many can bear it,” Keith finishes. “My parents came here to try and reestablish treatise. My mother’s last letter came accompanied with a dried red blossom. She said it was the last flower she could find and she wanted to save it from this place.” Shiro remembers the desperate falcon that had all but crash-landed on Keith’s bed. He also remembers the hushed panic of the Hoshizoran court the next day when another falcon arrived with a letter stained with red that does not come from flowers.

Allura reaches out to rest a hand on Keith’s arm as Shiro claps a hand on his best friend’s shoulder. The remaining four watch in silence as salt water sprays against their backs.

They stand, paused on a thin strip of weathered rock that threatens to crumble beneath their feet. Water roars below them and nothing but whistling wind sounds from above. After a moment, they keep climbing.

***  
It is treacherous. The stone seems to shift as they walk on unsteady sea-legs. Eventually they begin to crawl on their hands and knees. Hunk creates small footholds and ledges for them to grip. They climb faster.

Finally they crest the top. They have already used most of their energy just to stand in the shadow of the mighty fortress. The walls are tall and dull grey from lack of maintenance and the weight of darkness. Each inhale tastes like stagnation and Shiro watches as Keith spits on the ground.

Their band of seven approaches quickly and quietly. Coran waits for them aboard the ship; likely getting tossed about in the rough waters. They traverse the edge of the island. Huddled in a cluster of dead trees, the band searches for a way into the castle when suddenly, the sound of wood and gears in desperate need of oil cracks through the air.

“We know you’re there, Princess Allura Lumina.”

The words hang in the air before getting swept away by a harsh gale that threatens to hurl Pidge over the edge and into the ocean.

Allura looks at them all for a moment, expression determined before she nods and stands. Keith grabs her hand and keeps her there for a moment. A small reassuring smile. Then she pulls away and walks toward the voice that called out to her.

The trail behind her, staying low as they follow the princess to the front of the fortress. She stops within their view and opens her arms, empty palms facing the cloudy sky. She says nothing, but Shiro can see her brows furrow.

“And the others?” Comes a different voice.

“Others?” Allura repeats. She does not mock or feign ignorance. “You asked only for me.”

“Princess, you and I both know you’re not so dumb as to come here alone.” A third voice. Panic mounts in Shiro’s mind. How many are there? Lance’s hand comes to rest on his back and suddenly Shiro can breathe again.

“You outnumber us,” the first voice says flatly. “There are only four of us here and you number seven. Narti told us as much. If you plan to fight us then at least let us see our enemies plainly.”

Again, Allura says nothing. The sound of weapons being drawn startles them all. Keith moves, standing straight-backed as he strides toward Allura and turns to face the ones who called for her. For a moment there is quiet. Then the sound of weapons being sheathed breaks the silence.

“A half-breed galra?” The second voice exclaims in delight. “Are there more of you?”

Keith glances over to where the rest of the party still hides. There is no point in hiding. They approach their friends, an intimidating mass of Paladin uniform and weaponry. Even Matt is dressed to match—a white jacket trimmed with green buttoned over fitted brown pants.

As they come up alongside the princess and the red Paladin, they take stock of the people who face them. They’re a menagerie of color that stands in sharp constant to the lingering grey around them.

“You’re not witches,” Lance says dumbly. “But you are beautiful. My name’s La-ow!” The blue paladin rubs the sore spot where Pidge dug a sharp elbow into his side. Shiro runs a light hand over the still-healing mark on his neck and take a deep whiff of Lance’s scent. It is like a forest in fresh snow, ice tinged with the smell of cedar. Shiro relaxes.

“I like that one,” the pink woman says.

“Enough of this,” growls the tallest of the four Galra. “We will take you to our liege.”

“You’re taking us to Zarkon?” Hunk squeaks. The four women stare at him before turning away and walking into the castle. The unanswered question bounces off the walls of the cavernous hall the Galra disappear into.

Allura squares her shoulders and follows them inside. So the rest follow suit.

***

The winding passages are beautiful but sad. Walls are heavy with pieces of art and purple-paned windows. The floor is a spartan sheet of stone and tile, clean and uniform until the edges bleed into the beginnings of a massive mural that takes up the span of the left wall. Their footsteps echo as the follow the group leading them deeper into the strongholds

“Why are we just following them in?” Hunk hisses. “We are literally just following them into what could very well be a trap.” Shiro turns Hunk’s words over in his head as the omega turns to the Holts. Both betas looking equally uncomfortable with the situation.

Suddenly, Allura speaks up. “They are half-breeds.” The words are said as if they answer any and all questions. In a way they do.

Zarkon does not keep the company of half breeds. No Galra royalty does. Except one. So they keep walking.

Finally, they reach a large chamber that glows in the light of candles. The luminescence flickers as the quartet sweeps past. There, in a throne much too large for him, sits a man with long white hair and mixed features.

“Princess Allura, Prince Takashi, and Sir Keith. What a treat to see you all again.”

“Lotor,” Allura says carefully.

“I see you bring guests with you. The rest of Team Voltron I presume?” Lotor ventures, although it is clear that he already knows the answer.

“Who is this guy?” Lance asks. His voice is piercing in the silence and glowing gold eyes shift to locate the source.

“My name is Lotor, blue Paladin.” The half-Galra rises from his seat and gestures to the floor. There, Team Voltron sees shadowed mounds that escaped their attention as Lotor commanded their eyes. A heavy-looking cloak of luxurious fur and blood stained robes swath the headless bodies of the emperor and his witch. They are still fresh, blood not yet dried as Lotor steps over them to stand before Allura. The four strange half-breeds flank his sides as he opens his arms. “I am the new king.”

“You killed your father,” Allura says haltingly.

“If I did not then you would have,” Lotor responds with a pointed gaze that sweeps over their bayards. “It is not unusual in Galra culture of the royal bloodline to pass through unjust death.”

Despite the obvious disdain in Lotor’s voice, there is a tinge of sadness that Shiro cannot ignore. If Lotor feels Shiro’s piteous gaze, he ignores it. “When I caught wind of Voltron rising, I took advantage of my father’s split attention.” Lotor lifts his chin. He wears a mask of indifference before turning his eyes to Lance. Shiro’s hackles rise as Lotor licks his lips. “I did you a favor.”

“How are we trust you?” Shiro asks. The low hostility in his voice does not escape Lotor. Keith activates his bayard and surges forward, blade at Lotor’s throat. As the flames flicker in the dim and stuffy room, Lotor does nothing to prevent Keith from pressing even closer. The four women stare unmoved as Lotor holds his hands up peaceably.

“You may kill me. In fact I entreat you to take your revenge on me someday, but I have killed my parents to free the kingdom.” Lotor’s voice wavers as he addresses the deaths for the first time. Keith doesn’t budge.

As if weighing the truth of Lotor’s words, Allura tilts her head. Lotor confidently returns her stare.  
“We should kill him,” Keith says unevenly, his voice is heavy with emotion as he looks around the room. “We can't trust him. My parents died here. He killed his own—“

“It’s okay, Keith,” Allura says eventually. Her eyes are heavy with distrust, but even more so, they are hopeful.

The alpha growls with frustration before stepping away and leveling his sword with Lotor’s face. “I could kill you right now.”

“On the contrary, I think I would hold my own against you just fine,” Lotor answers, nothing but frankness in his tone. “Trust me. I could have killed you the moment you stepped foot on this island. I want to fix things.”

“Or you’re a coward,” Pidge calls out. She steps past her brother who tries to hold her back. She refuses to bend as electricity sparks at her fingertips. “You know that we could kill you at any time, and you want us to show you mercy?”

Lotor’s lip curls at the mention of mercy.

“I apologize for your treatment at the hands of my father,” Lotor says seriously. He looks concerned with the reality of his father’s crimes and unruffled by the threat of violence.

“Apologies aren’t enough!” Pidge snaps.

“Pidge!” Matt shouts, shoulders tense. “Enough.” The small beta backs down. However she still glares at Lotor with complete disgust, her bayard in hand as shakes Matt’s hand off of her arm.

“You’re right,” Lotor says. “Perhaps I should prove myself for you to believe me.” His voice is steady, but his eyes look broken; as if he had already run a marathon and is now being asked to run one more.

Before Allura or Shiro can say anything, Lotor bows deeply, eyes darting between the sword and the electricity that both crackle in emotion. He rises back up to his full height and turns to face Keith.

“Fight me,” he says.


	7. Peace

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> All things come to an end.

  
Keith lunges toward him without hesitation, sword erupting as he swings it down on the king.

A smooth step backward brings Lotor just clear of Keith’s range as he draws his own weapon. Shiro almost laughs. While Keith wields an arming sword, Lotor bears a rapier. Aggression and self-defense. Two half-galra on opposite sides of a war that they fight to finish.

Lotor side-steps another lunge from Keith before flicking his wrist and jabbing the tip of his blade into Keith’s shoulder. The alpha hisses in displeasure as Lotor flicks his wrist again to tap the skin of Keith’s neck. A thin line of blood appears where contact was made and Keith moves again.

Keith fights like a trapped animal. He is aggressive, instinctual, and fast, with little to no sense of finesse as he throws himself into the duel. With a roar, Keith’s blade explodes and catches Lotor’s left arm in the blaze.

The omega acts quickly and rips his sleeve off, throwing it onto the ground to let the fire sputter out. In those precious moments, Keith takes advantage of his opponent’s distraction and lunges forward. Lotor turns, narrowly avoiding Keith’s attack and unceremoniously trips the alpha. He collapses his weight on top of Keith, throwing the red Paladin into the floor before he drives a knee into Keith’s back. Lotor lays a hand on Keith’s neck and lines the tip of his blade between his fingers.

 _He beat Keith_ , Shiro thinks wildly. The man is downtrodden fresh off of a fight with Zarkon and Haggar, but he _still defeated Keith._

Shiro wonders what has happened to make Lotor this way. Lotor was always better at strategy than fighting. The Lotor he remembers was quiet and cunning but always on edge as if waiting for something terrible. He never understood why Lotor had seemed a little afraid.

Shiro eyes the deterioration of the palace and the ruthlessness of the beheading. He understands now. Lotor watched the horror as it festered from the inside. Zarkon and Haggar had been kind and just before their sudden imperialism. For Shiro it was sudden, perhaps for Lotor, it was not.

“If you find it necessary, I will fight every single one of you to prove my worth, but I will not die here. My people deserve redemption just as yours deserve freedom.” Exhaustion clings to Lotor’s form, but still, it is clear that he will fight them all. Shiro feels something rise in his gut.

Respect.

Lotor drops his sword and stands from where he kneels with a hand on Keith’s throat. A deep breath. Keith rises up from beneath the omega, defeated but uninjured from the looks of it. The skin of Lotor’s arm is glossy where the fire seared him. No one comes forward to challenge him. Lotor bows to them gratefully.

“Please, allow me to take you to the private meeting room while Axca and the others clean up here. Allura clasps her hands and nods to acknowledge Lotor’s suggestion. The four women had already set to work and say nothing as their king walks through a set of wide double doors.

Lotor’s goal is obvious. He wants to save his people and he will do anything he must in order to do so. Lotor has lost everything for the sake of justice and still he bows to Team Voltron who were more than willing to kill him. Shiro shakes off the guillt that clings to his skin and follows Lotor ahead of the others, Allura just one step behind him.

***

As they settle around the round table, Lotor gazes wistfully out of a dust-caked window.

“How long does it take for such ill-conceived magic to fade?” Lotor asks aloud. His eyes settle on Lance once more. “I would not mind new company to ease the wait.” The smile that stretches his long face is unexpectant and a little self-deprecating.

Shiro just barely tampers down the growl that surges up from his chest.

How long was Lotor alone? How long had Lotor lived in fear of the magic that consumed his family?

Shame sweeps through Shiro and replaces the jealousy that tucks itself away.

“What do you want from us, Lotor?” He asks instead.

Lotor Salvos, a man that Shiro has known since birth, looks up at him with curious eyes. The boy who sat quietly with him, Allura, and Keith at diplomatic dinners and disappeared after his father razed nations and peoples. Lotor Salvos, the omega half-breed that even Shiro’s mother always heaped praise upon. He, like Shiro and Allura, was an ideal heir.

Strategic, intelligent, handsome, and kind.

_Young and afraid._

The headless forms of Lotor’s father and mother linger in the back of Shiro’s mind. Every life lost to meaningless genocide prickles Shiro’s skin as he waits for a response from the man everyone had quietly hoped would end it all. The man who pulled through, in the end.

“I want peace. I want peace and the freedom to stabilize my nation and its people.”

The simplicity of the request strikes a chord with Shiro. It is as he thought, and as a prince, he understands. Shiro feels Lance take his hand as the beta waits for Lotor to speak again.

“I know that it is too much,” Lotor whispers, eyeing Keith where he sits. The alpha says nothing, but he does look abashed. The Galra King hisses as he leans weight on his injured arm. “Altea is gone and I ask for peace when you already know that the empire is undergoing a change of power. I could not die before but I can die now if you agree to my terms.” Lotor addresses Allura and Shiro both as he speaks again. “My father tried to kill me. Both he and my mother were corrupted by the magic and power they researched. I could not stop them and I deserve to die for my inaction. I will give you anything but please spare my people,” Lotor pleads. “They suffered under my father at the cost of their morality; they deserve peace.”

“Peace,” Allura begins, “is what we came here to achieve.” Beneath the table, Shiro sees her hands trembling. He reaches out to grasp one and sees Keith take the other. Allura heaves a shuddering breath. “To establish new order, we request that the Galra relinquish the lands they’ve claimed.”

“Granted,” Lotor replies immediately. He looks to Shiro. “What say you, Prince Takashi?”

“Use your army and your resources to help reestablish the lives of those who live in the lands your father took,” Shiro says steadily. They are straightforward, their wants. All three young royals pursue the same goal, and it is a great relief that there will not be anymore fighting to achieve it.

“Of course,” Lotor says. Then, suddenly, the half-galra man sinks into his chair in relief. All of the strength that he wore like armor melts away to reveal the exhausted desperate man at the end of his arduous journey.

“Do you agree to a Bloodpact?” Allura asks. Despite the suspicion still cast upon him by such drastic measures, Lotor agrees eagerly. Afterall, the pact requires that freedom for his people also be guaranteed.

It is in relative silence that they draw up a contract to bind their words with blood magic. Lotor, Allura, and Shiro hover over the parchment, quill, and ink provided by the startling appearance of Narti. Finally it is done.

Lotor lets out a deep sigh and draws a blade to cut a line into his palm. He bows his head and extends the bloodied hand to both Allura and Shiro.

“I pledge to honor this treaty for peace.”

Allura of the East and Takashi of the North both carve the agreement into their own palms and make their own declarations.

“We need the blood of someone from the South to make this as powerful as possible” Lotor says suddenly. “Southern lineage comes from generations of celebrating the gods you worship.” His eyes move amongst their party. “Do you have any of pure Southern blood with you?”

Hunk raises his hands up in a gesture of regret. “I’m half-Hoshizoran,” he says.

Shiro glances toward his mate, the beta staring at down at the floor before looking upward.

Lance holds out a thin hand and grins at Shiro’s grateful expression. “Getting mated to a prince and being part of an official Bloodpact all in less than a month?” Shiro triumphantly notes Lotor’s eyes tracing the claim mark on Lance’s neck as the beta steps forward. “Hell, I’m practically royalty already,” Lance shrugs as he signs his name and uses the shared blade. He extends his hand as blood beads from where the skin splits apart to reveal wounded flesh.

Lotor nods and moves forward. In a small sliver of sunlight that peaks through the topmost slat of purple glass, the four press their bloodied palms to the paper. The red sinks into the greedy grain of the parchment and the once-black ink glows gold.

Nothing but the sound of breathing breaks the air. Then a fluttering as Lotor offers the contract to Allura.

“For peace.”

***

Shiro likes peace.

Peace is Allura and Coran seeing the Altean palace where it lays undisturbed despite the passage of time and the brokenness of its walls.

Peace is the Holts returning to their lands and the gradual population of machines and droids that traverse the countryside to help plant crops.

Peace is Hunk’s mothers visiting the Hoshizoran court and the queen paying tribute to the family of a warrior who saved her son.

Peace is Keith laying fresh red flowers from the isle of Daibazaal on his parents’ shared grave. The alpha whose sullen and heavy burden eases as he sheds guilt and loneliness to help Allura and Coran build a new nation.

After Shiro returns to his mother with Lance in tow, she blesses their bond and throws them a gala catered by Hunk’s Hoshizoran mother.

Then, it is finally time for Lance to go home. Peace is Lance, Shiro discovers, as he allows his mate to introduce him to each and every relative and childhood friend. It is the wind in their hair and the sound of children laughing on a heavily populated beach. It is the boats that pepper the ocean and the people who go deep into the mountains to return with jewels and laughter.

Peace, Shiro decides, feels a lot like home. 

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading! If you enjoyed it please leave kudos! Or if you /really/ enjoyed it then I would love to hear from you in the comments! Feedback in any form is always greatly appreciated!


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